The Masks We Wear
by Lacey
Summary: We all wear masks. Tallest Red is no exception. Chapter 10: Batteries Not Included
1. Midnight Revelations

**Disclaimer:** As usual, I own nothing. No suing because you sure won't get much out of me! Invader Zim is the brainchild of Jhonen Vasquez. (As if I really needed to mention that!) Anyway, on to the story! 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter 1: Midnight Revelation**

Woo... Another exciting night of working. Purple hated working late. He despised it with a passion that he normally reserved only for Zim. But then, things weren't exactly normal lately. Late nights were becoming more and more frequent. Of course, Purple's nights wouldn't be quite so late if Red would stay up and help. But no... The crimson-clad Tallest refused to give up his beauty sleep. And so Purple was left with the whole workload. 

And all because of the Resisty... 

Who would have thought the Resisty - what a stupid name! - would ever have gained power so quickly? Sure, they were still no match for the Irken Empire, but it still seemed as though they were gaining allies almost every day. The Screwheads had been among the first to flock to the Resisty. It had taken near-planetary annhilation to stomp down the rebellion, and Postofficia still wasn't delivering the mail as well as it had before! 

A little mailbox popped up on the computer screen and Purple sighed. At least the electronic mailing system still worked fine, though lately he'd been getting horrible death threats and unsolicited porn. Wondering what it would be this time, Purple opened it up. Death threat complete with attached video. Probably someone burning a pair of dolls that looked like the Tallests - not the first time that one had happened. Purple opened the video file. 

Lard Nar's pale Vortian face grinned back at him. "Greetings, Tallests," the Resisty leader purred with a mocking bow. "By the time you receive this, you will have just lost Snackoria to the Resisty." The camera panned around to show the Irken race's chief snack planet. The Irkens were bound and chained as the Resisty feasted. "Soon your bellies will feel the pinch of hunger!" The screen went blank and Purple could only stare in horror. 

They'd lost Snackoria... There would be no more doughnuts and milkshakes, no more chocolate bars, no more Twinkies. It was all gone. Without Snackoria, the Armada would be left with tasteless health bars! If the Irkens didn't stay well-fed, they might join up with the Resisty just for chocolate! And then Operation Impending Doom II would be over! 

Nothing to be done about it now, though. But in the morning... Purple nodded to himself. Yes, morning would bring new ideas. Snackoria wouldn't remain in the Resisty's claws for long! 

But as Purple turned out the light and pulled his blankets up over his head, his confidence waned. Snackoria had been well defended, and now those weapons were under the control of the Resisty. Horrible! Purple shut his eyes, determined to force out all thoughts of the Resisty and Snackoria. Alas, he failed miserably. Throwing back the blankets, Purple climbed out of bed. He'd go visit Red. Yes, that was a good idea! Red was good with battle plans and such! He'd know what to do! 

Purple rushed down the hallways, zipping along like a violet ghost. At this time of night - not that time really mattered in space - the halls were virtually deserted. Only a few late stragglers drifted to their quarters. Occasionally, snatches of drinking songs would reach Purple's antennae. As Purple reached Red's room, he placed his hand on the palm-pad. Sure, he should knock, but he was just a bit too preoccupied at the moment. 

Red was, as any sensible Irken would be at this hour, sleeping soundly. Purple stood in the doorway and watched the covers rise and fall with Red's steady breathing. Maybe Red had the right idea... There really wasn't anything that could be done tonight. Purple really should get back to bed too. 

But still Purple didn't move. He hated to admit it - especially to himself - but he was scared. Being alone at a time like this would lead to nightmares and embarrassingly wet sheets. Surely Red would understand that. Yes. Yes, he would. 

Purple got into bed, spooning against Red's warm body. _'Red will understand,'_ Purple told himself once more as he snuggled against his fellow Tallest, wrapping his arms around Red as though Red were a teddy bear. Mmmmm... So warm and soft and... 

Squooshy? Very much awake now, Purple gave the thing under his hand a squeeze. Yep, definitely squooshy! That would mean that this wasn't Red. 

Blushing furiously, Purple quickly pulled away. But the damage was done as the now equally wide awake female let out a small scream. "Oh geeze!" Purple stammered. "M'so sorry about that! I thought you were Red!" 

The slender Irken woman just stared at Purple with wide Red eyes, her bosom heaving with every breath. Oh, not that Purple noticed. He would never be so vulgar to stare at a female's ample... His eyes were firmly fixed on... Oh, who was he trying to kid. He was watching her chest. 

Booted feet thudded against the floor outside. Purple's antennae twitched at the noise. Apparently the guards needed to learn a bit about stealth. Maybe that's how the Resisty took Snackoria - by being sneakier. The woman didn't give Purple much time to wonder about anything else as she grabbed the Tallest and pressed her mouth against his. Purple felt a leg wrap around his waist and he had to grin. He'd only heard of these sorts of happenings before, but he'd never gotten to participate. He eagerly slid his tongue into the female's mouth as the guards burst in. 

The guards shuffled around nervously at the sight of their Tallest in bed with a woman. Obviously the scream they'd been investigating was a false alarm. Stammering hasty apologies, the guards quickly left their Tallest alone with his new lady friend. As soon as the last guard had left and Purple and the woman were alone again, she slapped the Tallest hard across the cheek. "You perv!" she growled. 

"Hey! You started it!" Then the realization hit. She must've thought that he was Red. So that's why Red was always so eager to get to bed at night. Some guys had all the luck. "Ummm... You won't tell Red about this. I mean, when he gets back, he'll murder me if he finds out! When's Red coming back, anyway? And why would he leave a pretty thing like you alone in the first place?" 

The woman stared at Purple long and hard, her fists bunching up the soft blankets. She looked tired, Purple decided. Tired and sad - definitely not how a lover should look. And then the tears started, tracing a straight course down her cheek. "Red's dead," came the woman's soft whisper. 


	2. You'll Never Take Me Alive!

**Disclaimer:** As usual, I own nothing! Invader Zim is the brainchild of Jhonen Vasquez. 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter2: You'll Never Take Me Alive!**

Purple stared. Well, what else could he do? Here it was, the middle of the night, and he was sitting in Red's bed with a naked sobbing woman who was telling him that Red was dead. But how? The Resisty? Could they have managed to get an assassin on board the Massive? 

Backing away from the woman slowly, Purple eased a laser out of his ID Pak. If there was an assassin on board, this female was the most likely candidate. The tears had to be a trick! Sure enough, when the woman noticed the laser, the tears stopped. _'Soldier training,'_ Purple realized. Only a soldier's training would get a hysterical person to calm down by having a weapon pointed at them. Soldiers understood weapons. 

The woman - Purple still didn't know her name, nor did he particularly care to at the moment - wiped the last few tears from her face and stared evenly at Purple. "Put the laser up." Her voice was calm and warm, a vibrant contralto, but something in her tone told Purple that she was used to being obeyed. 

Purple kept the laser steady. No way was he going to put his weapon up while in the same room as an assassin. "Where's Red?" he snarled. Maybe he should call in the guards to deal with her. They would probably be better interrogators. 

Purple had never seen anyone look both sad and amused at the same time until the woman smiled at Purple. "I told you already," she sighed, shoulders slumping. "He died. Years ago." 

Red had died years ago? Impossible! Just that morning Red had dumped jello down Purple's robes! Red couldn't have been dead for years, unless... "Are you Red's daughter from the future who's come back to save him?" Well, sure, it was a long shot, but it was the only thing that made sense. Purple lowered his laser so that it wasn't pointing at any vital organs. If this woman was Red's future daughter - which would explain why she looked so much like him - then Red might not like it if she got shot. 

The woman squinted at Purple as if she couldn't believe what he'd just said. Finally, moving slowly, the woman placed her hand on top of the bedside table. Again Purple aimed the laser right where it would shoot through the woman's ID Pak. But the woman merely held up a black square patch which she placed against her throat. The patch changed color, blending in with the woman's flawless emerald skin. "That has got to be the craziest thing you've ever come up with, Purple." Red's voice unmistakably came out of the woman's mouth. 

Purple did the only sensible thing he could. He fainted. 


	3. So Where Is Red?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing! Nothing, I tell you! Invader Zim is the brainchild of the almighty Jhonen Vasquez and his army of winged monkeys. 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter 3: So Where Is Red?**

Purple cracked his eyes open slowly. What a weird dream! The Tallest stretched - or at least, he tried to. Someone had tied him up! Purple struggled against his bonds. He had to get help! His struggles dislodged a cold cloth which had been laying across his forehead. 

As the cloth slid down his face, reason stepped in and Purple paused to assess his situation. First - and most imporant - he was still breathing. Though he'd been out cold and helpless, the assassin hadn't killed him. Why? Not that Purple was complaining, mind. He just couldn't see how it would benefit her to keep him alive. 

Purple again tested his bonds. He definitely wasn't going anywhere, but he wasn't uncomfortable either. His captor just didn't act like she wanted him dead. Glancing around, Purple relaxed another notch. He was still on the Massive, still in Red's room. 

Purple sighed and laid back against the pillows. Tied up in a bed with a gorgeous female nearby... Purple had fantasized about something like this ever since he'd gotten that first hormone burst which initiated him into manhood. Yet in his fantasies he'd always been the one in charge; now he was helpless. 

"If you promise not to scream, I'll take the gag out." Purple's antennae twitched at what was most definitely the woman's voice. Managing to roll over, Purple watched the woman. She lounged across an armchair, wrapped up in a crimson robe. Very slowly Purple nodded. 

The woman got up from the chair in one fluid movement and crossed the floor to the bed. She kept her hands away from her sides - a sign which Puprle took to mean, "Look. No weapons." Yet as she approached, Purple still had to squelch an instinct to cringe away. Slim fingers worked at the gag and soon Purple's mouth was free. 

Oh, sure, Purple did think about screaming. He could easily get the guards back in the room. But the woman could still kill him before the guards arrived. And so Purple kept his promise. When he did open his mouth, all that came out was, "Where's Red?" 

The woman sighed and began to rub her temples. "Can't you think of any better questions? He's dead, Purple." The woman's lips quirked into a tiny smile. "Not that it should matter since you never knew him." 

A soft growl rumbled out of Purple's throat. This was getting ridiculous! "If you don't stop talking in riddles..." Purple never finished his threat, though. He was, after all, not in a good position to be making threats. 

The woman merely held up her hands apologetically. "Sorry, sorry!" Dropping her antennae back, she stretched out on the bed, laying her head on Purple's chest. "It's just... All of this has been my secret for so long. I know I've got to explain it to you since you've found me out, but that doesn't make this any easier. You've always been the last person I ever thought I'd be telling this to." The woman paused to smirk. "Because I always figured you'd be one of the first to go running to the Control Brains." 

Purple ground his teeth silently. How hard could it be for this woman to just give him her life story? Unless... Unless she was having to make it up on the spot! Ha! The assassin wanted to win his trust, huh? Well then Purple would just expose her! "So tell me... If Red's been dead for years and years, then who have I been ruling with?" 

"Me," came the woman's simple reply. 

_'Yeah, right,'_ Purple scoffed in his head. He would have noticed if his co-ruler had been a woman! It's not one of those easy-to-hide things. "Maybe you need to start from the beginning, lady." 

"Delan," the woman murmured. "My name is Delan." She slid off the bed and went to the dresser where she spent a few moments rummaging through the top drawer. When she returned to the bed, she held a photo in front of Purple's face. 

Red's face smiled out from the photo. By his side was a crimson-eyed woman in a high-collar coat. Both Red and the woman only had eyes for each other. And even though Purple couldn't see anything of the woman's face beyond her eyes, he could tell she was smiling. 

Delan absently traced a finger over the photo. "Red and I were... very close. He was a soldier and I was a nurse. Red was always pushing himself during training and ended up in sickbay. And I helped Dr. Gizmo patch him up. Then one day he asked me out for dinner. And after that we got closer and closer..." 

Purple kept a close watch on Delan's face. He always prided himself on being able to distinguish truth from falsehood - though being in politics he always saw more lies. But he couldn't read Delan's reactions as she stared at the photo. Her face was the same carefully cultivated neutral that Purple himself always used in diplomatic meetings. 

Delan grew silent for the space of a few heartbeats, and Purple would've given anything to know what was going on in her head right at that moment. When at last she spoke again, tears began dripping down her cheeks. "Then Red got the word that he was to go away... To invade a faraway planet... I... It was foolish, but I snuck along." 

With each word, the blank mask was stripped away, revealing the raw emotion underneath. Almost against his will, Purple began to believe Delan. "And Red never came back from the mission?" 

"I saw him die," Delan whispered, antennae laying flat against the back of her head. "He died trying to give me time to get back to the ship. I swore I would avenge him one day, and so I took his place and told the Control Brains that I was the one who died." Laughing bitterly, Delan added, "I had plenty of time on the long trip back from that backwater dirtball to plan everything out." 

"What planet was it?" 

"Earth." 


	4. Control Brain Justice

**Disclaimer:** I still own nothing! Invader Zim is still the brainchild of Jhonen Vasquez and his army of winged monkeys. And Dr. Gizmo is the brainchild of Bast. 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter 4: Control Brain Justice**

"Earth?" Purple gaped in open-mouthed incredulity. "Your great soldier love died on the same planet that can't even get rid of Zim?" Delan narrowed her eyes at Purple in a definite death glare. Purple tried to hold back his laughter. Honestly, he did! But despite his best efforts, a soft chuckle escaped him. 

At least, Purple laughed right up until Delan pulled a knife from her bathrobe. If Purple hadn't been tied up, he would've started banging his head against the wall while proclaiming himself to be an idiot. Faster than Purple's eyes could follow, the blade swooped down... 

And sliced easily through Purple's bonds. "Get out," Delan growled before storming off to the bathroom. 

Purple just continued to lay on the bed, marvelling at the fact that he was still alive. After several seconds of enjoying the often under-appreciated art of breathing, Purple rolled off of the bed. Going to the bathroom door, Purple pressed his antennae against the cold metal, sighing at the sound of muffled sobs. Oh geez! He hadn't meant to make her cry! He'd just thought it was funny that Zim survived where the soldier hadn't. "C'mon, Re- ummm... Delan!" Purple whined through the door. 

Purple had to jerk away from the door as somthing crashed noisily against it. Great... Now she was throwing things. Purple tried again. "I'm sorry!" Again something thudded against the door. This just wasn't going well. Casting one last glance at the bathroom door, Purple jammed his hands in his pockets and left. 

Out in the hallway, Purple began to wander aimlessly. There was just too much on his mind - the Resisty, Snackoria, Red - to be able to go back to his room and right to sleep, so Purple decided to let his feet take him where they would. 

Maybe Purple should go tell the Control Brains about what he'd learned. Someone willing to give up her identity as Delan had done had to be a sign of faulty data in the ID Pak. And that didn't even touch on this whole matter of love! Love just wasn't supposed to happen among Irkens, and yet here Purple had been presented with a disgustingly obvious display of love. 

The Control Brains would be aghast to learn that all of this had been going on with one of Irk's leaders. Purple paused in the hallway and sighed as he thought about what the Control Brains would do. If they decided that Delan's data was too far corrupted, they would just destroy her data entirely. 

On the other claw, if they decided her data could be salvaged, they would probably just eradicate the faulty data and reinstate her as Delan again. But she wouldn't be the same person. Her personality would be completely wiped out and she would go through the rest of her life as little more than an organic machine. 

No... Purple couldn't do that to Delan. Sure, maybe she'd been lying about who she was, but it couldn't all be a lie. Could it? And he had to admire her. Not many Irkens would have the sheer guts to take on another life. 

Still, Purple would feel better if he could talk to someone. Nodding to himself, Purple started hovering towards sickbay. 

The night shift doctor merely glanced up in surprise at Purple's entry. But the Tallest ignored the shorter Irken and continued on through the antiseptic smell and sterile environment. Beyond the hospital section lay Purple's goal - the private apartments of the Massive's doctors. Purple gave the nameplates on the doors only a passing glance until at last he came to the one he sought. 

After ringing the bell, Purple waited. Soon an old Irken, eyes drooping with sleepiness, stood yawning in front of the Tallest. "Dr. Gizmo, can we talk?" 


	5. The Death of Delan

**Disclaimer:** I still own nothing! Invader Zim is still the brainchild of Jhonen Vasquez and his army of winged monkeys. And Dr. Gizmo is the brainchild of Bast. 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter 5: The Death of Delan**

Once Gizmo hoad woken up enough to understand what Purple wanted, he'd ushered his Tallest inside and then bustled off to the kitchen with a promise to return shortly with tea. Left to his own devices, Purple wandered through the living room. It was cluttered, but comfortable - medical journals were stacked at intervals on the floor, while a bookshelf stood half-empty. Most probably the good doctor was in the midst of reorganizing the shelf. 

The couch was an imitation of Vortian design. Purple, having made his way around the room once, settled himself upon the comfortable cushions. Almost immediately, Dr. Gizmo returned carryinng a pot of tea and a plate full of little cinnamon cakes. Despite the late hour, the doctor was the absolute soul of courtesy as he poured tea and offered snacks to Purple. At last, the doctor got on to business. "What may I do for you, my Tallest?" 

Purple froze. What exactly did he want? He'd just come here because Gizmo was the only person Delan had mentioned other than Red. "You used to have a nurse named Delan working for you, correct?" 

Dr. Gizmo stared into his mug before nodding slowly. "Bright young woman, that one. If she'd only had better sense... She'd have made a fine doctor. Let me get her files for you." 

Nodding, Purple said, "Thank you. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd also like to see Red's medical file covering the thorough examinations that I'm sure were done upon his return." 

Now it was Gizmo's turn to freeze. At last he shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't comply, my Tallest. Not without Tallest Red's permission at any rate." Purple had expected such an answer, but he'd figured it was worth a try anyway. Within moments, Gizmo had Delan's files up on a data screen which he handed to Purple. 

Silently, Purple began to peruse the information. Suren enough, Delan was listed as deceased. Purple tapped that part of the screen and brought up Red's statement to the authorities. Then he slipped on a pair of antennae-phones so that he could listen as well as read the transcript. A bland, emotionless voice sounded in Purple's antennae. "Now tell us, Red, just for the official record, what happened." 

Next came Red's voice, soft and subdued. "I discovered that Delan had stowed away on my ship two days after I left Irk. When I contacted my superior to ask what the procedure was for this sort of situation, he told me to let her stay, saying that someone with medical training may prove useful." 

The cold voice chose this moment to interrupt. "Who is your commander and why would he not have ordered you to send Nurse Delan back to Irk?" 

"Gen. Noob, sir. His opinions about Invaders are quite well know. He believes that teams of Invaders would be more successful than single Invaders, and I guess he thought of this as a chance to test that theory." 

Purple nodded to himself. He remembered reading Gen. Noob's theories in Modern Irken Military class. Gen. Noob had been of the mind that sending out multiple Irkens with specialized skills would make for a more successful invasion. A soldier and a medical trainee thrown together like that would have indeed been the perfect chance tos ee if he was right. 

"Yes," the dry voice murmured. "We are familiar with Gen. Noob's ideas. Now please continue. Tell us about what occurred between you and Nurse Delan during the trip to Earth." Purple decided that the interviewer had to be a Control Brain. No living Irken could have possibly maintained such an impersonal air. In that case, Delan had been taking a big chance, because if the Control Brain had hooked up to her ID Pak, she would've been exposed immediately. Purple guessed that she'd taken a gamble on the Control Brains' natural aversion to the chaotic organic mind and won. 

"During the six month trip to Earth, I worked with Delan, trying to teach her to defend herself. And she taught me some basic first-aid stuff." 

"And..." The Control Brain prompted. 

"And we interfaced," Red confessed, carefully mimicking the Control Brain's lack of emotion. 

"Duly noted and added to the record. Did interfacing affect the performance of your duties?" 

"No," came the simple reply. 

"Again, duly noted. And confirmed through review of your report on the planet. Subject Red is not to be recommended for data erasure at this time." Purple let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. Just by mentioning data erasure, Purple knew that the Control Brains had at least been considering it. Had Delan known how close she'd come to losing her personality? Probably. "It is no longer relevant to hear of the journey. Skip ahead to the events which led to Nurse Delan's death." 

Once more Red's voice took up the tale, more emotionless now than ever. "When we arrived and set up our base, we discovered that most of the inhabitants were embroiled in a war. We remained undiscovered for a couple of weeks. And then one day, soldiers arrived seeking refuge from a storm. The stuff which was falling from the sky seemed to cause only mild discomfort to the soldiers. For Irkens, it burns. Rather than allow the meat beasts intry into our base, we turned them away. The Earthenoids were angered. They called us names which we'd learned from their primitive radio broadcasts were associated with their enemies. Then they began forcing their way into the base. Delan was shot. I went to drag her to the voot so we could escape, but the Earth beasts finally broke in. Delan told me to go, to leave her. What choice did I have? I escaped to the voot and left her to the Earth monsters..." 

Red's voice broke off, choked up with emotion. The Control Brain chose not to notice. "Go on." 

A long moment stretched out where Purple presumed Delan was getting herself under control. "And then, when I reached the acceptable altitude, I blew up the base and returned to Irk." 

The Control Brain seemed satisfied by Red's statement. "Subject Red's statement has been taken and is now being evaluated. Evaluating... Evaluating... Decision: Subject Red followed all appropriate procedures. Nurse Delan's demise is a result of her own decision to go into a situation for which she was not properly trained and a faulty command decision on the part of Gen. Noob. Furthermore, after reviewing the data taken on planet Earth, it has been determined that Earth is of no use to the Irken Empire, and therefore wil not be conquered. Thank you, and have a nice day." 

The transmission ended, and Purple was left with a thunderous silence ringing in his antennae. Poor Delan... Having to blow up the base with Red still inside, and then having her chance for revenge taken away. No wonder she'd gotten so upset earlier. Well, Purple decided that he'd just have to find some way to make things up to her. Taking off the antennae-phones, Purple slid the data screen back towards Gizmo. "Thank you, Doctor." 

"Did you find what you were seeking, my Tallest?" 

Purple sighed. "I think so. At the very least, I understand things better than I did before." 


	6. The Lady in Red

**Disclaimer:** As usual, I own nothing! And I'm sorry for all typo demon attacks. This is being typed in a program with no spell check. Sad, no? 

Heh! Tif, I see we know the same Law of Comics (and Soap Operas). Whether I'm obeying that law or not... You'll just have to wait and see! As to your guesses, I plead no comment. I spill no plans in the story, though if you catch me on IM, I'd probably be willing to confirm or deny. ^.^ 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter 6: The Lady in Red**

Purple marked off another day on his calendar. One week... One long week since he'd learned his co-ruler's secret. And she still wouldn't so much as give him the time of day. At least Snackoria was back under Irken control. The Resisty had simply been unable to maintain consistent routines, and the Snackorians were big fans of routine, so they'd petitioned to rejoin the Irken Empire. Of course, the several thousand Irken warships waiting just outside of the planet's atmosphere may have also influenced the decision. _'If only everything could be solved that easily,'_ Purple sighed to himself. 

Delan, in Red mode, lunged at the far end of the conference table, munching on popcorn and going over tax reports for conquered planets. Purple had a similar stack of documents in front of him, but he couldn't concentrate on them. All those numbers made his head swim. Finally he broke the thick silence. "Y'know, Red, we never talk anymore." 

"Mmm-hmm," came Delan's verbose reply as she flipped a page over. 

Well, that was just stellar... But Purple was not to be daunted. "So, what planet are you working on now?" 

"Stripmallia." 

Frustrated, Purple slammed his folder shut. But it just didn't make a loud enough noise to satisfy him, or to get Delan to look up from the tax reports. "How many times do I have to slarking apologize!" Purple growled as he stomped around the table. He'd tried cards; he'd tried candy; he'd tried flowers, but nothing had worked! The woman was an immovable rock! 

Purple pulled the tax report out of Delan's hand and crouched down, putting his head lower than her's. "I don't like fighting with you, Red. I miss having someone I can talk to and joke around with. I miss my best friend." 

A small smile touched Delan's face. Then she held the popcorn bag out to Purple - a sure sign of forgiveness if he'd ever seen one. With a happy squeak noise, Purple began stuffing his face. Delan eagerly joined in. "So... What made you decide not to run to the Control Brains and tattle?" Delan asked between mouthfuls. 

Purple shrugged. "Well, you're my best friend. If I told on you, then there wouldn't be much of you left to be friends with when the Control Brains finished up." 

"Awww!" Delan gushed. "Want to go blow up a moon now?" 

"Sure!" 

~*~*~*~*~

Later that evening, Purple found himself at Delan's room. They'd had a great day of blowing stuff up, playing jokes on the shorties (he could never get enough of asking them to get stuff that was way out of their reach), and snacks. Things were just like old times! And when they'd parted, Delan had asked Purple to visit her for supper. 

So now Purple knocked on her door. "Come in!" came the masculine Red voice. Purple followed orders and entered. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the room was unchanged since the last time he'd been in here. 

Delan was sitting on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. Some sort of gladiator program was blaring on the entertainment screen. Purple went over and sat down beside Delan. "It's all face, you know," he said, nodding towards the screen. 

"I know," Delan laughed. She took off the voice patch and set it on the coffee table. "It's still fun to watch, though." 

Purple hesitated, then wrapped his arm around Delan's shoulders. He wanted to try so hard to keep everything as normal as possible, but he didn't know how he was supposed to treat Delan anymore. Oh, sure, out in public it was easy. She was Almighty Tallest Red then. But now when it was just the two of them, Purple wasn't sure if she still expected that same treatment. 

"What's on your mind?" 

"I'm just trying to figure out the protocol now that things have changed," Purple sighed as he let himself be distracted by the fight onscreen. 

"Why does anything have to change just because you know I've got boobs?" Purple gaped, stunned by Delan's bluntness. She, however, kept right on talking. "Look, Purple. I'm still me; still the same person you've been ruling with. For all intents and purposes, I am Red. If you've checked the records, then you know that it was Delan who died on Earth. So, just keep thinking of me as Red." 

Purple smiled as he pulled the woman in his arms closer. Was it really that simple? Probably not. No. Make that definitely not. He would never be able to completely think of Delan as Red again. But did things have to change between them? That remained to be seen. 

Delan got up to fetch some wine. Between the two Tallests, the bottle was soon half gone, and Delan - who had drunken the most - lay giggling agaisnt Purple. Her slender fingeres traced along the line of Purple's jawy. "M'sorry." Drunken laughter peppered Delan's words. "M'sorry for picking on you and for the lasers... Heh! And for making everyone think you were a woman." 

Delan dissolved into another fit of giggles as Purple stared down at her. "YOU started all that?" Delan nodded as Purple groaned. All those years of trying to squelch tabloid rumors about his gender only to find out that this armful of co-ruler had planted those same rumors in the first place! But then, it was a clever move on her part. What better way to cat any suspicion off of herself than to divert it to the Tallest with the more feminine eyes? 

As Purple stared down at Delan, he realized that he'd never seen her so relaxed. He partly attributed it to being a bit tipsy. But even when he and Delan had been goofing off together, Purple realized that Delan had kept up a sort of defensive wall between them. But now that Purple knew who she really was, and with only him around to witness, sh was free to be herself. 

With a purr, Delan stretched before sitting up, the movement interrupting Purple's thoughts. "M'gonna go change. Order something nice for supper." With that, Delan got to her feet and tottered towards the bedroom. 

Left alone, Purple plaed a call to the Massive's kitchen and ordered what he considered a lovely meal - complete with another bottle of wine. When the food arrived, Delan still hadn't returned. Purple waited. And waited. And waited. The food was cold and still there was no sign of Delan. Finally, Purple went to the bedrom to check on her. 

And he found Delan sprawled across the bed, snoring softly. 


	7. Just a Joke

**Disclaimer:** Let's hear it again! I own nothing! Invader Zim is the brainchild of Jhonen Vasquez and his army of winged monkeys. Dr. Gizmo is the brainchild of Bast! 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter 7: Just a Joke**

Smiling, Purple studied Delan's sleeping form. Her face bore a tiny smile. Purple suspected that she's only meant to lie down for just a minute. Pulling a decorative quilt off of the back of an armchair, Purple draped it over Delan's body. The least he could do was tuck her in, especially since she looked so comfortable that Purple didn't dare to wake her. 

That done, Purple went back out into the living room. Well, so much for dinner. Purple wrapped up Delan's part of it and put it in the fridge. She might decide she wanted it later. Then he reheated his portion, and ate it on the couch while watching movies. 

Purple didn't know whether to leave or stay. Delan hadn't exactly invited him to spend the night, but she also definitely hadn't kicked him out. Perhaps it all boiled down to what he wanted to do. After a bit of thought, Purple decided to stay. But he wouldn't invate Delan's bed. Instead, the Tallest stretched out on the couch and was soon fast asleep. 

Morning came all to quickly; not that anyone on the Massive could tell, though. All of the ships clocks were set to the same time as the Irken Capital because a since of time was necessary, otherwise nothing would ever get done on schedule. And so, despite the lack of true morning, it was far too early for Purple to be up when Delan's communication screen station began buzzing. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Purple flicked the screen on. Dr. Gizmo appeared onscreen, looking at a clipboard. "Good morning, my Tall-" The doctor petered off when he saw Purple, then rallied himself valiantly. "..est Purple. I guess I've dialed the wrong room. Sorry for the interruption." Gizmo ended the transmisison quickly. Purple smiled and waited. 

In seconds, the Incoming Call buzz started again, and again Purple answered. Gizmo found himself once more staring at Purple. Antennae twitched nervously as the doctor asked, "So you're in Tallest Red's quarters?" 

Purple nodded. He could almost imagine the doctor's mouth gaping wide open beneath the high-collared professional coat. Week-old unvoiced suspicions rose in Purple's mind as he smiled pleasantly at the doctor. Perhaps Delan's secret was shared by one other... "Would you like me to go get Red for you?" Purple's voice dripped honey. 

"No!" came the doctor's panicked reply. Taking a deep breath, Gizmo got himself under control. "That is... I wouldn't dream of distrubing my Tallest's sleep... on purpose, that is." Purple kept his gaze steady on the doctor until Gizmo's antennae drooped. "You've figured it out, haven't you?" 

Still wearing that infuriatingly bland smile, Purple asked innocently, "Figured what out, Doctor?" Gizmo went silent, and so Purple stood. "Now, let me go get Red for you. Wait right there." Ducking into Delan's room, Purple crossed to the bed and shook the sleeping Tallest's shoulder gently. "Hey, wake up. Dr. Gizmo wants to talk to you." 

Delan yawned and cracked open her eyes. She held her hands out to Purple and he pulled her up into a sitting position. Once she was sitting up, though, she fell backwards, dragging Purple down on top of her. "Up and at 'em," Purple laughed, roling off of Delan. Delan just smiled and held up her hands once more. "Oh no! I'm not falling for that again!" And indeed, instead of lifting Delan up by her outstretched hands, Purple pressed forward and rolled her out of the bed. 

With a surprised squeal, Delan sat up. "I'll get you for that!" Her outrage was all noise and play, though, as she chased Purple once around the bed and out into the living room. Purple slowed and Delan leapt onto his back, wrapping her lithe legs around his waist. "Ha! Told you I'd get you!" Delan crowed from her perch. 

"But what are you going to do with him now that you've caught him?" Gizmo interrupted. 

Delan dropped off of Purple's back, spinning him around and waving an accusing finger at his face. "You did that on purpose!" she shouted. "You were trying to betray me!" Delan turned to flee back into her room, but Purple lunged and managed to grab her about the waist. 

Purple held on for all he was worth, which took more effort than he would have thought, for Delan was struggling for all she was worth. "I wasn't trying to betray you!" Purple insisted as he pressed Delan against his chest. "I figured out that he knew already!" 

Delan froze, her breath coming hard and fast. Her whole body trembled like a leaf in the wind. Purple led Delan to the couch, and drew her into his lap once he was seated. "How did you know?" she murmurred, laying her head against the crook of Purple's neck. 

Gizmo propped his chin up on his hands. "I'd love to hear this too." 

Purple smiled and brushed his lips lightly against Delan's cheek. His hand brushed lightly over her antennae, smoothing them back soothingly. "Well, I figured she had to have a doctor who knew. Either that or our medical training is getting so lax that our doctor's don't know how to tell male from female. You also switched her records with Red's, didn't you, Dr. Gizmo?" The doctor nodded and Purple gave himself a mental pat on the back. 

While Purple was busy congratulating himself for his brilliant deductions, Delan slugged him in the stomach. "That was for scaring the royal pee out of me!" she snarled. Pulling out of Purple's now limp grasp, Delan stormed back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Purple moaned and held his stomach. The woman knew how to hit - of that there was no doubt. 

Gizmo proved to be most sympathetic as he began to laugh. "No offense, my Tallest, but you deserved that." 

Having managed to catch his breath, Purple groaned and poked gingerly at his abdomen. "Oh slark! She hits like a man!" He winced as his fingers probed the area where Delan hit him. Yeah, that was going to leave a mark. 

Gizmo arched an eyridge. "And you're surprised by that? She's spent the last...," Gizmo paused and began counting on his fingers, "...about two hundred years learning to be a man. Anyway, if you would be so kind as to remind her that she has a physical tomorrow at 0800, I'd be greatful." And with that, the doctor ended the call. 

Purple sighed and shot a glance at the bedroom door, which remained firmly closed. The time had come to start ordering flowers and prepare for another week of getting the cold shoulder treatment. 


	8. Crimson Obsession

**Disclaimer:** As usual, I own nothing! And I'm sorry for all typo demon attacks. This is being typed in a program with no spell check. Sad, no? 

And I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Tif since she's been making so many great guesses about my plans for this ficcy. 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter 8: Crimson Obsession**

Purple dug through his closet with a wild desperation. He'd worked hard for the past two months to stay on Delan's good side. And though they'd spent their days together - seeing how much goofing around they could mix in with work - she'd not until today asked for any sort of actual date. Sure, what was coming up wasn't a true date. Delan would be out as Red, after all. But they were going to the theater, so it was almost a date. 

And so Purple was tearing through his closet like a man possessed. He would pull out an outfit, hold it up in front of the mirror, then toss it on the bed. He could always wear his traditional Tallest robes, but he wore those all the time. Deciding that he had nothing suitable, Purple sprang to his room's control console and brought up the famous Callnowia Catalog. He browsed until he found the perfect outfit. Satisfied, Purple placed the order and waited. Within minutes the box came crashing into his room. Purple pounced upon it, ripping through the cardboard top and burrowing through the packing peanuts. As soon as he'd unearthed his prize, Purple dressed and checked himself out in the mirror. 

The pants were black leather and soft, clinging to Purple like another layer of skin; clinging so tightly that Purple had to forgo underwear. Purple's shirt was pale lavender and silk, the collar ruffed with thick lace. The whole outfit looked poured on. Grinning to himself, Purple topped it all off with a black, floor-length duster. Oh yeah! Delan was going to love this! 

Satisfied, Purple went running off for Delan's room. The unfamiliar sound of boots clopping over the metal floor made Purple's smile widen. He'd had to leave off the hoverbelts to make things look just right, and found there was something satisfying about walking under his own power. Of course, getting so many scandalized looks from the smaller Irkens who'd never seen their Tallest walking was fun too. 

Before knocking on Delan's door, Purple took a moment to smooth out the imaginary wrinkles in his clothes. Purple then knocked to quick staccato raps, paused, and knocked twice more. When Delan opened the door, she froze and stared at Purple. Purple couldn't read the look on her face, but he silently prayed that she wasn't going to start laughing. "You look good, Purple," Delan finally said in Red's voice. "You haven't got the faintest idea how to keep a low profile, but you look very, very good." 

Purple paused, realizing he'd been complimented and insulted at once. Then he laughed, a stuttering chuckle sound. "What makes you so sure I dressed up for you?" 

Delan grabbed Purple, curling her fingers into the collar of his duster. She leaned her face close to Purple's, and he swallowed hard. His fingertips brushed lightly against her waist as he stood uncertain of what to do. "I never said you did," Delan murmured. When she pulled away, Purple noticed several shorties staring. 

A hot blush burned up Purple's cheeks. This was going to start certain rumors about himself and "Red" up again. Great... 

Grabbing Purple's arm, Delan began hovering down the halls, howling with laughter. "C'mon, Purple. We don't want to be late for the show." 

The two Tallests made quite a spectacle together. Because Purple was walking, Delan appeared the taller of the two. Purple's antennae twitched as he caught snatches of whispered conversations. Sure enough, between Delan's quarters and the theater, Purple heard talk of interfacing three times. Purple blushed each time, but Delan seemed oblivious. 

Purple never had been so grateful to reach their private theater box. Delan flopped down on a velvet cushioned chair and pulled a soda out of their private stash. "Oh, what you've gotten yourself into now!" she teased. Purple did his best to ignore her as he locked the door. Assured that no one would be bursting in, Delan pulled off her voice patch. "I hear this show is all the rage on Broadwayia." 

Purple shrugged and peered out over the audience. It looked like it was going to be a full house; though whether it was because the show was good or because the Tallests were there, Purple couldn't say. "Control Brains out there." 

Delan froze with the soda can halfway to her lips. In a flash, she slapped the voice patch back on and raced to the box's window. Sure enough, three Control Brains rested in their own private box. Not the whole Control Brain of course. They were much too big to easily transport. But they could send small parts of themselves out in specially built mechanical bodies - not wanting to tarnish their pure programming with unpredictable organics. 

"What are they doing here?" Delan gasped, eyes wide with fright. Purple merely plastered on his public smile as he pulled open the window. The audience let out a rousing cheer as he waved; the noise redoubling as Delan did likewise. When the two bulled back in, Purple set up the privacy blinds. 

Virtually along again, Delan curled back up on her chair, trembling fiercely. Purple sat and took her hand. "They aren't here for you," he whispered. "They're just doing research - data collection." 

"Data?" Delan's brow furrowed. "What sort of data could they possibly get from a play?" 

Purple slid an arm around Delan's shoulders, but his gaze lingered beyond the privacy screen. "We have so much that they do no. Things they never could have even guessed at when they fashioned the first organic bodies for our kind: humor, anger, joy, love..." 

Purple went silent. He hadn't meant to say that last. But maybe Delan hadn't noticed. Even if she had, surely she wouldn't think anything of it. Sighing, Purple turned his attention to the stage. The play was starting and Purple needed desperately to get his mind off of the woman by his side. 

A single actor stood in the spotlight, reciting some sort of introduction. Purple tipped his antennae forward to hear better, when he felt a warmth against his neck. Delan planted light, darting kisses against Purple's neck, and then along his jaw. "Let me interface with you," she purred. After that, Purple didn'te ven try to pay attention to the play. 


	9. The Awakening

**Disclaimer:** As usual, I own nothing! And I'm sorry for all typo demon attacks. This is being typed in a program with no spell check. Sad, no? Anyway, a no prize for anyone who spots the obvious Douglas Adams reference! 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter 8: The Awakening**

Let us let the Tallests have a bit of privacy now. Let us go far from the Massive; all the way to a little backwater planet in the midst of a podunk galaxy - a planet so technologically behind the times that they still think digital watches are pretty cool. 

~*~*~*~*~

Dib paced circles about his room. So many times had he followed this back and forth route that his path in the carpet was visibly more worn down than the rest. And still he paced. 

The boy's mind raced,creating plans and then discarding them just as quickly. There had to be a way to stop the alien menace! Sure there had to be. How many of Zim's weaknesses had he found anyway? Water, meat, polka music... Yet none of it did any good! Zim still remained undiscovered. How could the world not see what was so glaringly obvious? 

_'Maybe there's something I can use in Dad's lab,'_ Dib decided. What could it hurt to look. Prof. Membrane was forever building stuff. He moved from one project to another like a scientific whirlwind. It was just too bad that Prof. Membrane didn't believe in the paranormal because otherwise he would've made the perfect ally for Dib. 

The young, big-headed boy crept down into the basement lab. The light was on, for which Dib was grateful. In the dark, the lab looked too much like a set from "Frankenstein" for Dib to be comfortable in there. Equipment and inventions mingled everywhere - here a bunsen burner, there an attempt at a new and improved Super Toast. Dib never knew what he would find in the lab, but at least he could always count on it being in the same state of organized chaos. Dib planned on figuring out his father's organization system one day, and figured that when he did, he'd be solving one of the great mysteries of the universe. 

Prof. Membrane busied himself in front of a large, man-shaped container. Dib had seen this scarcophagus thing before, but he'd never daired to ask what it was for. He was half-afraid that he'd discover that his father was experimenting on humans. "Give up your secrets," Dib overheard the professor mutter. "I know you've got more for me..." 

"Dad?" Dib squeaked. 

The professor whirled around. "Son! What are you doing here? Finally come to learn what Real Science is all about?" 

"Ummm..." Dib twiddled his fingers and stared at the floor. He didn't want to get this old argument resurrected again. He and his dad would always see things differently. Dib understood Real Science perfectly well; he just preferred paranormal science. There was just something thrilling about uncovering the unknown - even if you couldn't get people to believe you. 

Prof. Membrane never gave up trying to convert his child, though, and today would be no exception. "You know computers, yes? Come! Let me show you this!" The professor led Dib around to a console that was hooked up to the tank. Bits and pieces of schematics flashed across the screen, pulling back to become part of a larger whole being assembled in the background. Suddenly the flashes stopped, and a smiley face lit up the corner of the screen. The blueprints were for a giant plasma cannon. "No, no, no!" the professor moaned as he deleted the schematics. "Why does it not understand that we need peaceful things?" 

Unable to believe what he'd just seen, Dib's mouth gaped open of its own accord. "What is all this, Dad?" 

With a flourishing wave, Prof. Membrane gestured to the tank. "This, son, is our family's greatest scientific tool! From its knowledge, Membranes have built many marvelous machines to improve mankind's way of life." The professor lifted Dib up so he could see in the window at the head of the tank. 

Dib found himself staring through a haze of fluid at a green, resting face. An oxygen mask covered the creature's mouth, yet Dib had no doubt that the creature was Irken. Not Zim, but still... "You've done it, Dad!" Dib cheered. "You caught an alien!" 

The professor looked back and forth between Dib and the tank. "Alien? Nonsense, son! It's merely a giant, super-advanced, mutant bug captured during the first World War." The professor began pounting out various parts of the containment structure. "It's been kept on life support since its capture. All of the body's functions are regulated normally, but the injuries it sustained during its capture have somehow cut off all higher brain functions from the body. But the knowledge, son! The knowledge is still there! And once we learned how to access it, the knowledge became ours!" 

"How do you know all this?" Dib asked skeptically. 

Prof. Membrane motioned to a preservation case holding a decrepit old book. "Your several-times-great-grandfather's journal reveals everything about the creature's capture, son. And now, if you are ready for the challenges of Real Science, I will turn the creature over to you so that you also may create great things." 

Oh, such a dilemma! Did Dib dare turn down this great opportunity and continue after Zim on his own? Or did he lie to his father about his intentions for the alien and use its knowledge to destroy Zim?" "I'm ready for Real Science, Dad." The lie came surprisingly easily. 

~*~*~*~*~

It took Dib nearly three days to get all of the equipment moved into his room. Dib had decided early on not to work down in his Dad's lab - too many opportunities for Prof. Membrane to realize that Real Science wasn't being conducted. 

Dib rubbed his hands together gleefully as he settled himself in front of his computer monitor. The time had come to see what secrets the alien held! Unlike his father, Dib knew that the ID Pakon the Irken's back held its mind. Which meant that the damage to the Pak was probably all that kept consciousness from returning to the body. And so, Dib - being the clever lad that he was - had hooked his computer right into the ID Pak. 

How did one search through a mind, though? Pulling up the ever-trusty File Finder, Dib typed in "Earth" for the keyword, and then picked the new drive labelled "Unknown" to search. A listing of files popped up, but the filenames appeared to be just random numbers and letters. Dib picked one and ran it through a generic media player. 

Onscreen, a female Irken appeared. She was staring in rapt attention at Earth from a ship's cockpit. Dib nudged up the volume as the woman pointed to the planet. "Just look at it, Red," the woman murmurred. "I've never seen anything like it! All that green and blue and white... It's so beautiful!" Well, that attitude was certainly far different from Zim's; it didn't even sound anywhere close to someone who was bent on world conquest, for that matter. 

Arms, which Dib assumed belong to the Irken in the tank - who must be Red, wrapped around the woman's waist, pulling her close. "Let's hope all that beauty isn't hiding danger," the male purred. "I only want to get this mission over with so I can get you back home safely." 

Dib closed the window at the sound of the woman's warm laughter. These two - and where was the woman now? - seemed almost human. Were the rest of the memories like this? Was Zim really just some sort of aberration while these two represented the ordinary Irken populace? Or had Dib just stumbled on a rare happy moment? 

Dib sighed and started to turn off his computer when another memory file started playing on its own. A shiver raced down the boy's spine because he knew he hadn't opened anything. Thunder and faint gunfire rumbled through the speakers as the interior of a home appeared onscreen. Nervously Dib watched, despite the feeling that he should close everything up and unhook the alien from his computer. The events which led to Red's coma played across the screen. 

When Red was shot, Dib had to hit the pause button and make a run for the bathroom. His stomach heaved almost as soon as he got his head over the toilet. Dib couldn't believe he was letting the creature get to him like this! The boy kept telling himself that it was all a trick. The Irken wasn't human, after all. It was an alien... An alien monster... An alien monster who bled... An alien monster who loved... 

When Dib returned to his computer, the file was just as he'd left it, but a chat window had also appeared. The alien's first words onscreen directly addressed to Dib provided a simple message. _"Help me."_


	10. Batteries Not Included

**Disclaimer:** I live! Sorry about going so long without updating. It's been a rather hectic summer between funerals, vacation, and a new job. As usual, I own nothing! And I'm sorry for all typo demon attacks. This is being typed in a program with no spell check. Sad, no? 

**The Masks We Wear  
Chapter 9: Batteries Not Included**

Dib sat in class and tuned out Ms. Bitters's lecture on Englands Victorian Period. He'd already written down the highlights: filth everywhere, Potato Famine, lots of death and doom. This left him to think about the alien in his room. Dib had taken Red out of the tank to assess the damage. But the Pak was beyond his ability to repair. The technology was simply unlike anything Dib had ever encountered. He'd tried to take the Pak off to examine it better, but Red had flooded the computer monitor with so many alarms that Dib quickly gave up on that notion. 

Physically, at least, Red had been fairly healthy, though a bit out of shape. Red's muscles, luckily, hadn't atrophied and wasted away entirely. The body tank had proven to be a treasure trove of various machines, including one which moved Red's limbs occasionally in a semblance of exercise. 

But how to fix that blasted ID Pak? There was only one person on Earth who knew enough about Irken technology to possibly be able to perform the repairs. Of course, that person would much rather kill Dib than help him. Still, Dib supposed that he had to try. Didn't he? 

When lunchtime finally rolled around, Dib swallowed his chocolate moo juice and his pride. Step by agonizing step, he approached the alien's table. Zim scowled fiercely, but by some miracle, kept his mouth closed. Perhaps he just didn't want to blow his cover as a "normal human." Instead, the Irken just stabbed at his mystery meat with his fork. "So... Nice day we're having, huh?" Dib began. Oh, how he despised having to go to his enemy for help! Deciding that the best thing he could do was to just get this over with quickly, Dib blurted in one rushed breath, "I've got an Irken in my bedroom." 

Zim twisted his fork into the belly of the meat before shooting a venomous glare at Dib. If looks could kill, Dib would have been sliced, diced, roasted, toasted, and nuked by that single glance. "You lie, Earth-stink," the alien hissed. "This is just another of your horrible moosey plans to capture me!" And just in case anyone in the lunchroom was listening - which no one was - Zim added a rousing, "I'm normal!" 

Dib sighed. Why was he not surprised by Zim's reaction? Instead of arguing, Dib merely tossed a couple of photos of Red down in front of Zim. "Believe what you want, Zim. But he's really there and he needs help. There. He'd said his part. Leaving Zim to stare at the photos, Dib retreated to his table. The ball was in Zim's court now. 

All afternoon, Dib continued to cast glances at the alien, but Zim gave no sign that he was even considering to give his aid. Zim merely stared straight towards the front of the room and chewed on his lower lip. None of his usual outbursts occurred - no declarations that he would one day rule humanity, no mention of how weak, stupid, and dirty humans were. Nothing. 

Dib could only sigh and try - however unsuccessfully - to concentrate on his work. If Zim was going to help, he would say something. 

After an endless day, the bell finally rang. Dib pushed his way through the frantic herd of children, and wasn't the least bit surprised to find no sign of Zim. The alien must have already gone home to try out another plan to destroy the human race. 

The walk home for Dib was a lonely one, and all he could think about was Zim. How could the alien not want to help one of his own kind? Of course, Dib realized as he at last pushed open his bedroom door, it shouldn't come as any surprise. Zim was such and arrogant, self-centered pain in the... 

"It's about time!" a familiar voice grumped. Dib froze. There, right there, sitting on his bed an examining one of Dib's action figures was none other than Zim himself! Setting the toy back down on the dresser, Zim hopped off the bed and began circling Red's tank. "You pathetic little Earth monkeys are so slow!" 

"Primitive, but effective," Zim muttered after several minutes of poking at the tank. "Inform him that the mighty Zim has arrived to rescue him and get him out of there, human mud-pig!" 

Dib had to bite his tongue as hard as he could to keep from telling Zim to do his own dirty work. Zim was here to help Red, after all. And so, with no other choice, Dib went to his computer, brought up the chat window, and let Red know that he'd found someone who could fix Red's ID Pak. Without bothering to wait for the comatose Irken's response, Dib got up and hooked a hose to the tank, which he pulled to the bathtub. Then he rushed back to his room and threw open the drain valve to the tank. 

Zim, meanwhile, had meandered back to the bed and set himself down again, studying Dib with an intensity that made the human nervous. "Why do you want to help him so badly?" the tiny alien at last asked. 

The question really didn't come as any surprise to Dib. He'd asked himself the same thing many times, after all. And when he'd figured out the answer, it was surprisingly simple. "Because he's not a monster. He's just a guy who wants to go home." 

Zim growled and began monitoring the fluid levels. when at last the levels were low enough, the Irken and the boy wrestled the top off of the tank. Dib spread towels out on the floor while Zim hauled Red out of the tank. After looking over the unconscious Irken, Zim nodded grudgingly. "You humans have at least done well at keeping his body shell in good shape." 

Dib shrugged and sat down on the floor to watch Zim work. The alien started off by carefully wiping all fluid off of the ID Pak and surrounding skin. "Wouldn't it be easier to just take the Pak off?" Dib interrupted. 

Zim shot Dib one of his patented death glares. "Yes, it would be easier. But the body shell can't survive for very long without the ID Pak. Now shut up and let me work, stinkbeast." Dib opened his mouth to ask how long the body would survive, but shut it again quickly. Instead, he went to the computer to talk to Red. 

'What is happening?' Red was asking in the chat screen. 

Dib glanced over at Zim who was carefully removing the metal casing from off of the ID Pak. 'Zim is examining the damage,' Dib typed back. 

'ZIM!? Sweet corn, boy! You might as well unplug me now!' Red started playing a memory file on the Windows Media Player. Dib put on headphones so as not to disturb Zim. Darkness filed the Media Player screen as Red's voice called out to shadowed forms, "Power's out planet-wide. The back-up generators for the Control Brains are working, but everyone else is on their own." 

Red shut down the file. 'Zim did that on the day he was born, and that's not the only time! It's no wonder Tallest Miyuki sent him way out here.' 

Well, that was certainly interesting. Dib frowned as he thought. If Zim were indeed that dangerous to his own people, then maybe he wasn't sent to Earth to capture the planet... "So, Zim, what does Miyuki want with Earth anyway?" 

Zim glanced up from his examination of the innards of the ID Pak. "Tallest Miyuki wants nothing with this miserable ball of filth, hair monster. She's dead. Eaten by a giant blob creature." 

Oh... Red was obviously behind the times. Dib relayed Zim's words to Red. Red responded with a shocked 'O_O' emoticon. 'How about Spork then? He was next in line.' 

Spork? What kind of name was that? "So, what does Tallest Spork want with Earth?" Dib asked. 

Zim didn't even bother to look up from the wiring this time. "The blob creature got him toon. Just let your friend know that the twin Tallests Red and Purple are in charge now." 

And so Dib again played messenger boy, though he did wonder about the name coincidence. He had a Red here, yet one of the alien leaders was also Red? Red must be a popular name among the Irkens. 

'Red?' came the comatose Irken's response. 'One of the new Tallests bears my name?' Then again, maybe the name wasn't all that common if Red was surprised by it. 

Suddenly, the chat screen went blank! Dib whirled around, only to see Zim rolling up the cord which had just seconds ago connected Red to the computer. "What?" Zim grumbled, shooting yet another death glare at Dib. "It was in my way!" He turned back to his work, leaving Dib to fume silently. Once again left with nothing better to do, Dib watched Zim work again. 

Zim was a careful worker, much more so than Dib ever would have believed. Before the little alien did anything to the machine on Red's back, he checked and then double checked to make sure it wouldn't lose all of Red's data. There was no big production when at last Zim stepped away from the body. He merely wiped a sheen of sweat off of his forehead and announced, "Done." 

Almost immediately, the ID Pak informed everyone that a system check was in progress. The system check seemed to take forever, though when Dib glanced at the clock, only a few minutes had past. At long last, the pod-like machine declared, "Systems check complete! Reactivating unit!" Sparks flew from the ID Pak as a jolt of electricity zapped through Red. Dib held his breath as Red's fingers twitched. 

Then, in a sudden rush of strength, Red managed to sit up. Dib let out a joyous shout as he started twirling Zim around the room. "It's alive!" Dib crowed - he'd always wanted to say that. "It's aliiiive!" 

"Be quiet!" came Gaz's shout from down the hall. 

And then the professor threw in his bit. "There'd better be Real Science going on in there, son!" 

Both voices jerked Dib back down into reality. As rational thought returned, Dib released Zim with a startled yelp. Red, sitting on the floor and watching, finally uttered his first actual words to Dib. "Gee, your head is huge!" 


End file.
